Dot's saturnine smile drew the corners of her lips downward and didn't reach her eyes. She had no wrinkles of worry on her forehead, just that demanding ambitious line running straight down between her dark eyebrows. She remembered women plucking their brows and then pencilling them back in to affect the look of constant surprise and thought how weak and stupid they all looked, fluttery hands and sucked-in cheeks, and this was fashion? She'd rather have a sunburn.